


"i don't know where this road will end..."

by Anonymous



Series: low, keep your head, keep your head low [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Elections, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sad Floris | Fundy, Strained Friendships, Temporary Character Death, badass niki, minecraft., phil is everyone's dad, this is legit just people talking about how they don't want wilbur to be president again, whoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "...but i'll walk it with you hand in hand"Six months after Schlatt's downfall, and Phil is passing off his leadership to someone else in a new election.(title from 'promises' from hadestown)
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, Charlie Dalgleish & Jschlatt, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Series: low, keep your head, keep your head low [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994845
Comments: 18
Kudos: 151
Collections: Anonymous





	1. The announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil announcing an election, what sins will be committed?

Phil was many things. An architect, a survivor, an older brother, a warrior. The list went on. But he wasn’t a leader. He never has been, and he doubted that he ever would be.

That was always Wilbur’s forte. Or even Tommy’s. Phil was content to follow the leader, to chip in with his own ideas whenever the situation called for it, but he wasn’t the type to go out and actively lead a group of people.

This was different. They didn’t need a leader. They needed an adult to lean against, someone who could help them rebuild, someone to take the weight of the world off their shoulders because Ender knew they needed it. So that was precisely what Phil had been doing for the last six months.

But looking around at the streets of the country now, the laughing faces, the sunshine illuminating the tall, beautiful structures that were constructed under Phil’s keen eye. The uglier buildings were remodelled to look more fitting of the place’s general aesthetic. The wafting smell of fresh bread and chocolate hung around the air, coming straight from the bakery where he knew half of the kids would be at. Somewhere on the edge of the country, Techno was farming, not a thought of anarchy on his mind. Wilbur was probably writing another song, Tommy and Tubbo were off being kids and things couldn’t be better.

So that’s why Phil called them all to the central garden, the one that replaced the blackstone podium, and gave the news of his resignation.

“Already?” Tubbo exclaimed.

Phil smiled gently. “Tubbo, mate, it’s been six months. I never intended to stay in charge for that long in the first place.” Murmurs broke out. Phil them talk before raising a hand, commanding silence. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the feel of everyone just stopping their chatter at the simple wave. “Listen. I have no plans of leaving this server any time soon. But you will need a new leader. An, um, a president. So, here’s the deal.” Everyone leaned in subconsciously. “In exactly a month from now, we will be holding an election. Anyone over eighteen can run or join a party. People under that age cannot do either.”

Phil snuck a glance at Tommy. He’d expected anger and frustration on his face. Instead he found relief shining in those eyes. Good. No child should ever have to be caught up in political messes again. Not while he’s still kicking. “So anyone else can run?” Skeppy asked from somewhere in the back.

“Yup. You have to do the whole campaigning process and everything.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wilbur glancing at Quackity who had frozen in his seat.

“Will we be able to vote?” Tommy stared up at him, something burning in his eyes. Phil nodded, and Tommy let out a breath, turning to grin at Tubbo.

He clapped his hands together. “Go off now. You’re to come to me with your applications for running as well as the members of your party. Deadline is this time next week. Good luck.”

He watched them all scatter in different directions, slowly heading away from the middle and to whatever they needed to do. Goodness knew how busy the next few weeks would be.

* * *

When everyone went off after Phil broke the news, Fundy was left ambling around the garden, completely lost in his thoughts. He could go again. Campaign with a friend and possibly become president. Fuck, it was possible with enough work.

But then he looked over to Wilbur and instantly knew what his opposition would be. (He felt a little sick.) There was a small group still milling around. Niki looked deep in thought, coming over to stand by Fundy with a small smile on her face. Her eyes shone in determination, and he realised that she was extending a silent invitation to him.

“Coconut2020?” he asked, and she lit up like a torch.

“If you want,” she replied shyly, and he found himself pausing.

Scratching the back of his neck, he asked himself if that was what he wanted in this new era of peace. Of actual peace as well. And freedom. Schlatt had lied to them, but Phil hadn’t. “I’m not sure,” he admitted.

Niki was a saint as usual, smiling sympathetically. “We’ve got a week to make it official. But I think it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll sleep on it.”

“Fair enough. Come by whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

“Tell her what?” a new voice asked. Fundy froze, whipping around with his muscles tensed and ready to fight before spotting Wilbur who sported an easy smile. “Hey, Fundy! You two running again?”

The smile became strained. Fundy straightened, forced himself to relax. “I’m not sure, actually,” he gritted out. The air between them was tense. “What about you, Wilbur?”

“Oh, I’m definitely running. I _was_ hoping to get Ms Nihachu on my party but, well—” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his trench coat, “people get in the way, I suppose.”

“Wilbur,” Niki said, a warning note in her voice. “I wanted to make my own way in this anyway. You know that.”

“Right, right, sorry.” He let loose a long exhale and smiled brightly at them again. “Well, I’d best be going. See you around. Can’t wait to run against you!”

And he was gone.

* * *

The first person to come by Phil’s office (only an hour after the declaration) was Wilbur, to no one’s surprise.

“Hey, Phil. Philza! Dadza! Daddy-o—”

“Spit it out, Wil.”

“Okay, I admit, the last one was uncalled for.”

Phil snorted. “And yet you refuse to see reason behind your obsession with sand.”

“It won’t hurt to eat a little, Phil! Lighten up!”

“I’m losing braincells with every word.”

“You never had those braincells to begin with, Phil.”

He scoffed. “Then what’s stopping you from doing stupid shit?”

“My superior intellect.” Phil sputtered in indignation as Wilbur continued. “Calm down, old man. You’re in danger of having a heart attack.”

“I’m _not_ old, Wilbur! Your perception of age is just skewed because you’ve been hanging around too many teenagers! Yes, I’m talking about Tommy specifically.”

Waving a hand, Wilbur went on. “Yeah, yeah, okay Mr Senior Citizen.”

“ _I’m not_ —”

“I want to run for president.”

Phil knew this was coming. Wilbur was many things, and ‘ambitious’ was most of them. He was probably still considered a good leader despite his…unravelling several months prior. “Well I can’t stop you,” Phil said finally. He slid over a piece of parchment with all the details he needed to fill out on it. “You’re the first person to sign up. Any running mates?”

There was a reason Phil banned Tommy from being able to run. Wilbur was that reason. It had been six long months, but Tommy still flinched away at raised hands, still regarded Wilbur with distrust in his eyes, still tried to block his view of Tubbo if Wil got angry. They were kids. Not pawns. “Nah. I can do it on my own.”

A lie. He couldn’t, not really. But no one wanted to run with him.

Phil stood up and shook his hand. “Best of luck to you, mate.”

* * *

Phil wasn’t surprised when Bad and Skeppy handed in their own applications the next day. Skeppy had most likely dragged Bad to the office in the first place if the exasperated glances meant anything.

“Good luck!” he told them, watching them leave. Bad gave him a small wave and a ‘thanks’ as he herded Skeppy away from the pretty vases that littered the place.

Niki and Fundy, on the other hand, he wasn’t expecting to stroll in three full days after Bad and Skeppy. Fundy looked extremely nervous, ears and tail twitching as he drummed his fingers on his thighs. “How have you been?” Niki asked in her normal, quiet voice.

Phil smiled at her. ‘Coconut2020’ was the name they had chosen. Wilbur went with ‘Wilbur2020’ and Skeppy had written down ‘Muffins2020’. He was seriously almost regretting letting a bunch of young adults run around and try to start a country. “Alright. A little stressed but who isn’t these days?”

She laughed it off. “I can see that. Is-is Wilbur going to run again.” She glanced to her side, at Fundy who hadn’t spoken for the majority of the conversation.

Phil nodded and he drooped slightly at Niki’s side. She pat his shoulder twice, seemingly concerned. “Right. Well, I’m sure he’ll put up a fight. But it’s nothing for us, isn’t it, Fundy?” she pressed.

He nodded, glaring at the floor. Phil cleared his throat. “Actually, Nihachu, could I speak with Fundy for a moment.” He’d expected disappointment from her but instead got a wide smile.

“Of course!” she chirped, backing out and closing the door.

Phil turned his attention onto the fox. “Are you afraid of Wil?” he asked.

Fundy was caught off-guard by his bluntness, mouth slightly open as he blinked and tried to register the question. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you afraid of Wilbur?” Phil repeated patiently. “And be honest with me.” He took a seat behind his desk, gesturing at Fundy to do the same.

Fundy stopped tapping against his leg, but he still didn’t look up. “And if I was?”

Phil leaned forward. “If you were, I’d get you an apology and I’ll make things easier for you.” His voice turned soft. “I know that the last few months have changed him for the better, but he’s still not completely right and I’m not sure what to think of him winning this. Fundy, he’s my brother but the moment he makes you feel unsafe, I will pull him out of this.”

He looked up very quickly, shaking his head furiously. “No! I-okay, look. Wil and I aren’t on the greatest of terms right now because I snapped at him when he called me his son.” Phil arched an eyebrow. “He never actually adopted me. He just thought I looked cute and just…I don’t know, claimed me?” He laughed a little to himself. “And then he found out about me burning the flag. Fuck, he’s going to hate that I’m running against him.”

Frowning, Phil shook his head. “I’ll talk to him if you want.”

“Don’t bother, Phil.” He sounded far too tired for a twenty-something year old. “I’m doing this for Niki. It’s not like we’ll actually win.”

“Do you want to do this?”

Fundy hesitated for a moment, not answering right away. Phil averted his gaze so that he didn’t make him any more anxious than he already was, eyes tracing the patterns in the wooden desk.

“I wanna make a change,” Fundy admitted softly. “I wanna do something _good_ by myself, you know?” A nod. Phil did know what he meant. “So yeah, I wanna do this. Even if it wasn’t for Niki, I’d do this. I’m just…”

“I’ll support you with this,” Phil said gently. “I know you have good plans for this country. You’ll do a hell of a lot more than I did, I’m sure of that.” He smirked a little. “Just don’t commit voter fraud.”

“Aw, come on, that was _one_ time!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now shoo. I have a flying lesson to prepare for.”

Fundy laughed it off. “Thanks Phil. For everything.”

“No problem.”

* * *

_“Everyone please clap for the new president of L’Manberg, Wilbur Soot!” Phil yelled to the roaring crowd as Wilbur, wearing his old uniform, swaggered up to the stage that had been constructed for that specific moment. He caught Niki smiling beside him. Caught that same, uncannily similar grin on Tommy and Tubbo. It was like seeing a skeleton bare its teeth. Mirthless. Creepy._

_It was reflected on everyone’s faces. Everyone except for him._

_Wilbur turned to the cheering crowd gathered before him, not even sparing a passing glance at Fundy. He raised his hands, and everyone fell silent. Not even the birds interrupted._

_“Thank you,” he began, grandiose because that was Wilbur’s style, “everyone who voted for me. Thank you to everyone who made this day a reality. I couldn’t have done it without any of you. Tommy for sticking by me no matter what, Niki for being so supportive despite her running on a different side—” here he turned to her and blew her an exaggerated kiss, “to Phil for saving our asses.”_

_They whooped again, Phil’s heart chuckle still somehow discernible through the noise. Fundy glanced up at the sky. Storm clouds were beginning to roll in dark and foreboding. Thunder crackled, shaking the very ground underneath their feet, so the flowers swayed in a chaotic rhythm. They’d need to go indoors soon. “No problem!” Phil yelled back at him._

_Wilbur chuckled, cupping his hand around the side of his mouth and talking in a stage whisper to the audience, as if he were sharing a secret. “Ender, I hate that guy.”_

_“Hey!” Everyone laughed, right on cue. An awful, hollow sound that didn’t reach their empty eyes._

_Fundy leaned over to Niki. “Is anything weird about this?” he asked her. He couldn’t remember campaigning at all. Or even the voting process. Who did he vote for? It wouldn’t have been Wilbur, surely._

_She shook her head, anger in her eye. “Hush,” she hissed, making Fundy flinch. “You’re being rude.”_

_“Right. Sorry,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the new president. Niki’s eyes were oddly blank._

_“This place will be a lot different tomorrow.” Okay well that sounded a little too similar to Schlatt but coincidence was a funny thing! “I kept asking myself, over the last few months, ‘what am I willing to lose to make this happen for me?’” Something sinister entered his eyes. Niki gasped and he turned to her and let out a strangled yell._

_“Niki!” he cried, diving forward to grab her by the shoulders as she coughed and hacked, blood trailing down her chin and neck as it bubbled up from her throat. Droplets of crimson turned into rose petals the moment they hit the ground. His fur was stained red. He looked up, holding her close to him. “Help!” he yelled at the assembled crowd who watched on impassively. “Please help her!”_

_Wilbur’s laugh rung in his ears, shrill and melodic. Someone was screaming. “Welcome to a new era of L’Manberg!” Wilbur’s shadow on the ground had horns, curling around his ears. It grew longer, and the L’Manberg uniform disappeared. Niki’s breathing was stuttering, shaking, getting shallower by the moment and Fundy couldn’t do anything more than hold her and rub her back. “My first declaration as president, is to revoke the citizenship of Mr Fundy!” he roared into the mike._

_Niki’s eyes locked onto his, and her face became slack. Something in Fundy broke. His hands went limp and she fell backwards, onto a bed of white roses that turned red with her touch. The eyes were wide, grey and leeched of all brightness and colour they once had. “My L’Manberg,” she sang in her death. Fundy backed away, glanced at the faceless people with their weapons loaded and bolted._

_There was shouting behind him. People were tailing him, so he booked it for the forest. Somewhere he could hide away from this nightmare. The ground below him changed. First was blackstone and concrete. Then rough dirt and cobblestone. Finally, there was quartz. It begun to rain, and the water ran purple. An arrow whizzed past him. He registered Wilbur’s cackling over the buzzing in his ears, the steady hum of a thousand bees. Was Tubbo also chasing him?_

_And then he was stumbling into a building, eerie quiet a stark contrast to before. His clothes were stained and wet in blood and he nearly gagged remembering. He leaned against the black walls, sliding to the ground and curling up on himself. Let Wilbur find him like this. Let him be discovered._

_When the ground began to rumble with the force of a beast waking up from its slumber, when he heard the hiss that preceded it, he’d all but leapt up and had thrown himself at the exit._

_Blackstone crashed around him, burying him in the belly of the beast, a small pocket of protection while hell rained on outside._

_“Fundy?” Wilbur called from the outside. “Fundy, where are you?”_

_“Wil?” he wheezed. Something was crushing his chest._

_There was the sound of rock moving. “Fundy! I’ll get you out!” More rustling from outside. Clinking and smattering. Bricks smashing together, breaking glass and wood, coming together in an orchestra of panic as Fundy couldn’t get air into his lungs. The sounds clattered against the inside of his head making it spin around and around. The darkness in front of him was impenetrable, but several times he saw the faces of his friends within it. Was he going mad? “Fundy!” Wilbur’s voice pulled him out of such thoughts._

_“H-here,” he choked out as the last slab was removed and light filtered its way in._

_“Oh, Fundy,” the lips said, and he wasn’t focusing on the mouth but the ram horns that framed his face._

* * *

Fundy yelped, bolting upright in bed. It took ten seconds to be able to adjust to the scarce lighting. It took another fifteen for him to identify where he was.

Niki’s spare room. They’d gotten back from handing in their application to run for president, and a few hours ago Phil had arrived with an injured Quackity. They were having a sleepover in the other room, but Fundy elected to have some privacy. He sighed to himself, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them. A knock on the door startled him. “Who is it?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Me,” Niki said on the other side. “May I come in?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door quietly, shuffling in a little awkwardly. “I heard you scream,” she explained. Concern was betrayed by her eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Right. He shrugged. “Just a nightmare,” he whispered. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.” But he was still shaking, clutching the blankets like a vice.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and actually going to bed, she came over and sat with him. “It was Wilbur, wasn’t it?” she asked sadly.

His heart seized. “How’d you guess?”

“Intuition.”

She didn’t say anything more, waiting for him to speak of his own volition and Fundy wondered exactly where to start, trying to figure out exactly what he was afraid of. Recalling the details of the dream, he remembered Wilbur’s speech. The lines that were Schlatt’s. The shadow, the horns, Niki’s death, the explosion—

“What if Wilbur turns into the new Schlatt, Niki?” he asked, horrified (with himself, with Wilbur, with the war).

She stopped, pausing next to him and draped a gentle arm across his shoulders, pulling him in. “What makes you think that way?” she asked carefully.

He shrugged. “You saw how he was like back…then. What’s to stop it from happening again?”

Silence stretched out between them. “Well,” Niki said finally, “you’re right with that. Wilbur is still a little unstable. But things are different now—”

“How?” Fundy challenged, immediately feeling bad.

“Let me finish,” and the aggravation left him completely. “No one in this place will let him lose control again. We have learnt from our mistakes. Fundy—” and here she nudged him with her hip, eyes dark with the memories, “we survived Schlatt. No matter what he did to us to break us down, we lived through that. We stand strong now.”

“Wilbur isn’t Schlatt.” His tone was bitter. “Everyone loves Wilbur. Practically no one wanted Schlatt on this server when he appeared. Him winning the election was a fluke.”

“We may have soft spot for Wilbur, but that doesn’t mean we will stand for mistreatment. And besides.” She giggled a little. “You’re talking as if he’s already won. And we won’t let that happen without a fight.”

“Heh. Guess we won’t.”

When she stood up, she pulled him up by his wrist as well. “Come on. It’s a sleepover in the living room. We can keep the bad things away.” Ah fuck it. He gathered up a blanket and a few pillows, trudging down the hall and entering the living room where he made a nest next to Niki’s mattress. She laid down and smiled at him softly. “Sleep well, Fundy.”

“You too, Niki.”


	2. Haircuts and Festivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and Wilbur unknowingly find themselves in the same boat kinda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon:  
> me, shoving it into a box: no💜

“Sit _still_ Sapnap.”

George huffed in annoyance, repositioning Sapnap’s head. He grumbled as George did so, eyes rolling to the heavens. His bandana lay discarded on a nearby chair and tufts of black hair littered the ground around them. “You’re taking too long, George,” Sapnap whined, trying not to jerk his head away from the shears. “It’s been an _hour.”_

“It’s been half that, stop being dramatic.” Dream chuckled to himself, mask-less for once and only half focusing on restringing on of his bows as he watched the spectacle of George trying to cut a very disgruntled Sapnap’s hair.

Sapnap’s eyes turned to glare at Dream. “What are you laughing at, pissbaby?” he challenged, swatting at the wisps of hair that tickled his nose.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dream said, putting up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t look bad.”

“Oh yeah, I’d definitely trust _your_ opinion on my fucking hair.”

Taken aback, Dream leaned forward, squinting at his friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sapnap snorted. “You wear the same goddamn hoodie every day and you think it looks good. Oh yeah, and that fucking mask.”

“I will slime you in your sleep, Sapnap.”

“If you do that,” George said tersely, biting his lip in concentration, “I will throw both of you out.”

“He started it!”

Sapnap crossed his arms. “Shut up!”

Sighing, George lowered the shears for a moment, fixing the two of them with a stare. “Dream, stop aggravating Sapnap. Sapnap, for the love of the Dragon, sit still so we can get this over with.”

“It’s just a bit of hair anyway!”

“Yeah, and it nearly got you killed. Shut up.” (Had Dream not spotted the skeleton, Sapnap would’ve been much worse off.)

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Sapnap didn’t stop his grumbling as George clipped away at his unruly hair, brow furrowed as he was lost to the world. Dream returned to his work in silence. Sapnap just sat there, fidgeting and squirming, and no one made a comment on it to save their sanity.

“Hey guys,” Dream said out of the blue, breaking the silence. “Where did you say you took Schlatt to?”

It was like a spell fell over the room. Not a good one either. The mere mention of the former president immediately made both of his friends’ heads snap up to face him. “Huh? Oh, to Slime’s world.”

“Remind me who that is again? And why you took the most dangerous person on this server to a guy called ‘Slime’?”

George shrugged. “Slime was friends with him before, so it just felt like the right choice. And he was… _excited_ to see Schlatt honestly.”

“Weirdos,” Sapnap muttered.

Dream nodded, mostly to himself. “Do you think things are going good over there?”

George laughed a little, resuming his work. “If they weren’t, we’d know. Slime promised to send us updates and the latest one was great. I’m not sure exactly what ‘great’ is for them though.”

Dream loosed a breath, glancing up to see their faces better. “I mean, we wouldn’t really know unless we visit, right?”

George stopped snipping, the shears hanging in mid-air. Sapnap gaped at him. Dream shifted uncomfortably. “What did you just say?”

“I’m saying, we go visit him ourselves. Just as a check-up, you know?”

George put the shears down to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I…why exactly? Is there some ulterior motive you’re refusing to tell us?” His gaze darkened. “We are _not_ letting him back on this server for fun, and I swear to the End if you suggest it I will—”

“No, no!” Dream was quick to deny, voice high in incredulity. “I wanna see how Slime’s handling him. And also how we fucked up so bad.”

“And you wanna go—”

“Not alone. Hopefully I’ll have you two?”

Dream was good with the puppy eyes. George sighed, letting up. “I’ll come with you.”

“I fucking won’t.” All eyes turned on Sapnap, whose gaze was turned to the floor. “Did you fucking see what he did to Karl and Quack?” He shuddered and they both noticed the tension in his shoulders, the fear in his eyes. “I’m not coming, Dream.”

“That’s okay! Just me and George then.”

“No.” George shooed Sapnap off the chair, and he took off immediately, claiming the table as his seat. George leaned against the backrest. “We have to tell Phil at least. He deserves to know.”

“Okay. Just me, George and Phil. No one else needs to know about this.”

“That’s…fair, I guess. When do we leave? I have to send them a message to warn them at least.”

Dream hummed for a moment in thought. “Day after the election, maybe? We could leave in the morning and say that another admin was having troubles in their server.”

“Sure, that’s a convincing enough lie,” Sapnap muttered, staring at himself in a mirror. Now the ends of his hair stuck to the base of his skull and didn’t stray any further down. His bangs were shorter as well and didn’t hang in his eyes either. George stared at him expectantly. Sapnap snorted and smiled. “Not half bad, Gogy.”

Visibly relaxing in relief, he turned to Dream. “Your turn.”

“Fuck,” Dream deadpanned, distress in his eyes as Sapnap started laughing.

* * *

Tommy and Tubbo spent a lot of time together after the war finished doing things that they couldn’t really do while being on opposite sides or preparing to take back L’Manberg. But now, they made beehives and planted trees together. They built structures only to pull them down and destroy them immediately after. They ran, they played, they tamed wolves, they explored but always within reach of their home. Phil kept good tabs on that at least.

Their favourite places were scattered around the world. A peaceful meadow. The entrance to a cave that they had lit up and blocked off from the rest of the system. An abandoned village they were in the middle of renovating. A quiet, wintery wonderland with an abandoned log cabin they’d decided to liven up.

All of them had the same, homey feel to it. But then again, Tommy was home with Tubbo. That was just how things were.

They were at that very cabin, warming up by the hearth on the wooden floor after a trip to the nearby taiga forest for berries, when Tubbo sprung up the question.

“Who do you think you’ll vote for?” he asked while rubbing his fingers together to work heat into them.

See, Tommy hadn’t given it much thought. He knew who was running because their faces had been plastered over literally every building in the country and there had been speeches and stuff, but the thought of actually voting hadn’t actually crossed his mind until now. “Uhhh—”

Tubbo leaned back a little. “It’s hard, isn’t it? People just keep saying stuff that we want to hear and it’s getting boring now. I like Fundy and Niki, but I don’t really want them to keep talking about ‘unifying the nation’ again.” Tommy snorted.

“Yeah. Get’s a little tedious after a bit.” Truthfully, he barely paid attention to everyone else. Everyone but Wilbur, of course. Maybe it was because of the days he spent in that ravine, listening out for Wilbur while he was doing something even vaguely illicit (like talking to Tubbo) for safety’s sake. Or maybe it was a remnant to the time before, while L’Manberg was still being founded and he'd hung onto every honey-dipped word. “Who’re you voting for, Tubbo?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Out of everyone, I trust Niki the most honestly.” Tommy’s head snapped up to meet his eyes. He stared back. “What? Did you think I was going to vote for Wilbur?” he asked tentatively.

Of course Tubbo would know what was racing through his head in that moment. “I…I think so?”

Tubbo sighed a little. “We don’t have to anymore. Back then, it was practically mandatory. You saw how angry he got when Fundy ran against him. But now, we’re free to do whatever.” He grinned. “Vote for whoever.”

“I-I don’t know, Tubbo. What if he—”

Tubbo had always been rather good at reading Tommy’s mind. “Phil says all the votes will be anonymous. He knows Wilbur almost as well as you do,” he said breezily.

“Yeah but—”

“Phil promised that he’d pull Wilbur out of it all as soon as he tried anything.” Tommy opened his mouth again, but was swiftly cut off anyway. “ _And_ there’s the fact that Phil’s going to keep an eye on Wilbur after the election happens. No one new is joining until it’s over and that’s the end of that.”

“Where did you get this information?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I asked Phil those exact questions.”

“Huh. Alright then Mr Psychic.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome Tommy.” He plucked a berry from one of the bowls they’d put them in that were lying beside them. “You still haven’t answered my question. Now that I’ve assured you that you have no obligation at all to vote for Wilbur, who do you think deserves to be the new president?”

“Me,” Tommy said immediately. “I’d make an amazing president.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. I asked Quackity and he said so. And he was VP so he’s definitely right.”

“You have a point. If it wasn’t for that age limit, we’d totally win.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at him. “We?”

“Yeah!” Sitting up straighter, Tubbo’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think I’d let you run by yourself? I’m the likable one.” Tommy spluttered indignantly as Tubbo cackled, falling back onto the floor and narrowly missing the berry bowl during his descent.

“That is _not_ true, Tubbo, you take that back right now—”

* * *

The second festival held in the county turned out to be a lot better than the first one.

It was Phil’s idea to give the candidates a little more publicity as well as the time and space to interact with future voters. They’d set up stalls as if it was a market around the central garden. Him and Quackity had strung up lights together on top of the buildings where most other people couldn’t dream of reaching and everyone had chipped into decorating with lanterns and banners.

Bad and Skeppy sat near their stall which had a load of merchandise that Phil didn’t dare touch because most of it had Skeppy’s face on it, and if he’d learnt anything in the last six months, it was that anything associated with Skeppy was not to be trusted. He sincerely hoped that Bad would be the one taking the lead if they won.

Nevertheless, he waved to them. Bad waved back, but Skeppy didn’t see him, deep in conversation with Techno who had a smug look in his eye. The former was playfully agitated, crossing his arms and yelling in the face of a man who simply didn’t give a flying fuck.

Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Niki and Fundy were giving out various pastries. Fundy was chatting to anyone who bothered to stop by for more than two seconds and seemed interested enough in conversation. Phil commended his effort to socialise more specifically for this at least. Niki waved him over.

“Hello!” she said brightly, handing him a croissant. It smelt delectable was puffy and slightly crispy in his fingers. “It’s a wonderful festival, isn’t it?”

He remembered Tommy filling him in when he’d first joined the server. He remembered Tubbo’s scars and shook his head clear. “Yes. It’s pretty good for something we put up a few days ago,” he replying, looking around at the decorations pointedly.

Niki nodded. “Very much so! I’m glad to be here.” Her smile became shy. “I’m glad things are this way now.”

They all were. He saw it in their faces every day. “So am I,” he said softly. He took a bite out of the pastry and nearly melted into a puddle onsite at the rich chocolate that oozed onto his tongue. “This is really good, Niki.”

Laughing, she waved a dismissive hand. “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy it.”

Phil studied her for a second. This whole time, she’d been a kind of powerhouse, waking up early to start work at the bakery before going off and lending a helping hand around the country to everyone who needed it. She was the most enthusiastic, right after Wilbur himself, over winning. And judging by the way she was handling all of that pressure, Phil reckoned she would do a good job at being president.

“Tell me, Niki, what are your plans for this place if you win?”

It was like a switch had flipped almost. Her smile went from shy to strong and she stopped slouching as much. “Fundy and I have been talking about a lot of changes. Some of them are still up in the air, but we know that we want to put effort into rebuilding and possibly expanding outward.” She gestured vaguely with a wide sweeping motion. “Neither of us really want another war at this point,” she muttered sheepishly. Phil’s heart twisted. “ _So_ we want to promise actual diplomacy and peace. And possibly some way for people to voice their opinions on the country and on what needs to be changed.”

Phil hummed thoughtfully. “That sounds great.” She beamed at him, all sunshine. “You two care about this place, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It’s where we live. No matter what happens, it’s our home.” Then, an odd look came over her face which she wiped off quickly.

Phil quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you two ready for this?”

To his surprise, she gave him a swift nod with no hesitation. “Yes. We thought it out over the last few weeks. We’re very ready for this.”

And Phil smiled, no he grinned wide, because between most of the candidates, he knew all of them were bright people with good plans. While he hadn’t talked to Bad and Skeppy yet, he knew that, judging by the unusually serious way that they were taking this, they cared enough to enforce positive change.

He didn’t include Wilbur in this equation because he didn’t even fucking know what Wilbur wanted to do if he won. He was being very secretive, and it was driving everyone up the wall.

“I’ll be going off then. Got to make sure Tommy hasn’t set anyone on fire.” It was partially a joke and mostly an actual concern of Phil’s.

“Right, right. Tell him I said hi and also to stop by and eat something.”

“I will!”

Drifting away from Niki’s stall, it took him approximately five minutes to locate the youngest problem brother (sue him, he had three) talking loudly with Tubbo and Quackity. Laughing. Phil relaxed, shooting him a smile and a wave which was reciprocated by all three of the boys before heading off to Wilbur’s stall.

He looked bored, sitting there. People had visited, but not very many, and Phil honestly pitied him too much to just leave him like that. He flashed Phil a grin when he came over. “Hello!”

“Hey, Wil. How’s it going?”

Wilbur pouted. “Not great. Some people just don’t appreciate the idea of my presidency enough to actually pay attention.”

Phil winced a little. “Well…I guess bad for them? What have you been telling them?”

He chewed his lip absently. “You know. Bringing the flag back. Calling it ‘L’Manberg’ (Phil couldn’t help but think that was a jab directed at him). A cool ass cabinet. Schlatt getting his just desserts—”

“I’m sorry?”

Wilbur’s eyes were intense. “Schlatt. I want to…I want to make everything he did to us look like nothing compared to what I’ll do to him.”

See, Phil harboured a healthy hatred for the former president, but even he could agree that some things were just better left forgotten and untouched. Completely. And going after Schlatt like this just wasn’t the greatest idea in the slightest. “Wil, have you maybe considered that some people don’t really want to talk about Schlatt anymore?” He’d lowered his voice , eyes looking around for a reason he couldn’t quite identify.

Maybe he didn’t want to see the terror that wrote itself into the eyes of most citizens here at the mere mention of the name.

“What do you mean?” Wilbur asked. “Talking about and dealing with issues is a good thing, Phil.”

“Yeah, but not through torture! Listen, there’s a reason we sent him with Slime. It’s going to be better for us and for him if we just don’t interact at all.”

Wilbur let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Well of course you aren’t angry. You weren’t fucking there.”

Low blow. “Wilbur,” he tried, steady and calming. “You know I would’ve been there if I could’ve. But Dream had to—” Wilbur fixed him with a look. A bad look. Wilbur’s glares had gotten significantly worse since he’d joined this server. They held a lot more bloodthirst to them, at least. It was worrying. And while Phil wasn’t afraid of them, he knew people who were. “Cut that out,” he snapped. “I’m not letting you near Schlatt.”

He stood up, deciding to let his brother cool off somewhat. Wilbur turned his eyes to the ground. “Fine then. Fucking leave.”

And he did, but not without feeling a twang of remorse in his chest for not doing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame the slow updates on a dadschlatt fic somewhere on ao3 that's taking up my focus
> 
> also i don't write fluff enough and it _shows_


	3. The Election

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks, and there's a new president (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god the quality is deteriorating

The night before the second elections, Skeppy had crashed at Bad’s place.

It was late at night, and Bad found himself running a hand through his sleeping friend’s hair on his sofa, starting to feel his eyes droop with weariness he hadn’t felt for a long time.

Bad wasn’t sure if he wanted to win the election. Skeppy was hellbent on it, but even he had admitted, privately with no prying ears or eyes around, that their chances of winning were slim compared to Wilbur’s or Niki’s even. They just weren’t as popular, weren’t considered as competent.

And he would argue against that quite fiercely. They’d been part of the quiet resistance within Manberg back when Schlatt was president. They’d helped around where they could, trying to lessen the effects of the abuse the country and its citizens went through. Ender, Bad and Skeppy were just as worthy for this role as any of them.

So yeah, Bad _was_ hoping they’d win. They had plans. They had ideas. Something beautiful to bring to the world.

But, and Bad told himself this in the dead of night with no one to hear but the walls and the pot plants, whatever happened tomorrow, he was hoping most of all that this place would get a leader that would treat its people with kindness and compassion.

(Bad woke up screaming most nights from nightmares of ram horns and carefully pressed suits.)

A man like Schlatt was poison. Something deep and visceral that rotted the place from the inside out, and killed every scrap of hope and happiness within it. And Bad didn’t know if he or anyone else could take that again and come out strong.

So there, in the peace of his home with his best friend safely tucked into his arms, Bad hoped that the second election would go smoothly, that the nation or whatever the muffin it was now would flourish and prosper and become what Wilbur so desperately wanted it to be all those months ago.

There, in that tranquil moment, Bad swore to never let this country fall prey to poison again.

* * *

The night before the second election, Niki baked.

She _was_ about to go to bed, but a potent cocktail of restlessness and anxiety decided to kick in and keep her up. Her mind was no escape either so she turned to the one other thing that she could think of at that late hour that would use up her energy and require large amounts of focus.

Baking.

So there Niki was, in the process of putting three cakes into the oven while also preparing to make tiramisu. She was tired and stressed out over the upcoming day as she quietly bustled around her house. She hoped Fundy was doing a little better though she doubted it. Fundy didn’t want Wilbur to win.

Niki was perceptive.

She was quiet and that gave her the ability to listen, to watch.

So she knew Wilbur wasn’t completely sane. Knew the poisoned looks he shot at Quackity and George, the way he talked about the things he would do to Schlatt if he could find him, the way he spoke with reverence of the walls he’d built, how good of a president he’d make.

The way Tommy barely spoke to him anymore. The way Tubbo looked a little afraid whenever he came close.

So Niki knew that Fundy was right. Wilbur couldn’t win. Not this time, not when the wounds were still fresh.

It was that thought that kept her up. The thought that this country would not be safe if he won. The worry that the people would still vote for him because they didn’t see what she and Fundy did.

But then the cakes were done, and the tiramisu was put away in the ice chest. She had been moving on autopilot, so they weren’t up to her usual standard. But now she had to go to bed. It was already two hours past midnight and she needed to sleep to prepare properly for tomorrow. Her victory speech sat on the table along with the plans she and Fundy had made.

Niki bit her lip, retreating to her bedroom as the coals in the furnace died down.

Whatever fate had in store for them, they could survive it. Hopefully at least.

That was what she told herself when she shut her eyes and waited for sleep to arrive.

* * *

The night before the second election, Fundy paced.

He paced and paced around his home, finding himself looping around his living room, going into the storage, then the bedroom and starting over again. He paced and paced and thought and then cursed his brain for thinking too much because he was too goddamn anxious over this stupid election.

Well granted, the last one didn’t go so great and literally everything that happened after it was something that came straight out of a nightmare.

But it was okay! It was fine! Coconut2020 had a chance! He’d sworn off voter fraud because this time they couldn’t afford to be disqualified.

(Sometimes, he couldn’t help but imagine how different everything would’ve been if they had won the first time.)

No, it was okay. It would be okay. This time, people were actually in their favour. He’d talked to them, had made so many speeches and appearances and had been a model citizen (he hated that last bit because he couldn’t vandalise Eret’s castle anymore) for the sake of this coveted position.

So they had a chance, they could definitely win. Bad and Skeppy were fierce competition but they were even fiercer. They didn’t even know what Niki was like on the rare occasion she got mad.

He collapsed onto his bed after some time, face first with a soft thump. Curling up and burrowing underneath the blanket, he half hoped that he’d just sleep through it all like George had.

* * *

The night before the second election, Wilbur slept soundly, completely assured in his ability to win. In fact, he’d fallen asleep so quickly that it wasn’t even five in the evening.

Phil had turned the light off, pulled the covers around him tighter and stared at him sadly for a little while before leaving.

Ender, he hoped this wouldn’t flop.

* * *

Election day came bright and sunny, although there was a sombre mood that hung around like a bad smell.

Banners had been hung up around the square, and there were voting booths constructed for the occasion, with food stalls and seats for everyone who was waiting. Phil would be the one to count the votes, because he was the only one that wouldn’t actually vote here. Which suited him fine, actually.

The candidates arrived first in smart outfits (no one wore a suit and that was okay), sitting down in the gardens or walking around by themselves, smiling nervously at one another.

(Why were they so nervous? Things were different now.)

Fundy felt relief when Wilbur showed up in a white dress shirt and not his old uniform.

Phil clapped dhis hands together, standing on the stage when he was sure that most of them had arrived. “Hello, hello! Welcome to the second election of former L’Manberg.” (He ignored Wilbur’s scowl.) The crowd cheered. “Thank you all for being here. I must say, because our numbers are small, voting is mandatory. So if you notice that any of your friends aren’t here, please go and find them because this day dictates the future of this nation. Here are your candidates.” They waved from behind him and were met with polite applause. “Over the past few weeks, you have met with them and listened to their cases. By now, I hope you have a clear idea on who you will be voting for.” A weary smile. “Simple rules. Party with the majority of votes wins this election. And if there’s a draw, we’ll just do it again.”

Nods all around with a few laughs. Phil gestured off stage and Quackity stepped up, holding the ballot paper tightly, knuckles pale as he held it up to show everyone gathered. “This is the paper. Uh, it’s got the names of the parties. Just shade in the box next to the one you want to be president and fold it up. Then, you drop it in the box under the table in the booths. Please don’t make reading the paper harder than it needs to be.”

Phil clapped his hands together. “Line up, everyone,” he clucked like a schoolteacher herding up his students. “We’ve an election to get through.”

* * *

The nervousness between the candidates was practically palpable as they sat or paced restlessly around the gardens, seldom speaking to anyone. Fundy had disappeared for an hour straight and had come back with soot on his white shirt. Skeppy had begun to vandalise the bench that they were waiting on, carving shapes and names onto the wood with his short dagger. Bad didn’t even reprimand him for it.

Niki sat up suddenly when she saw Phil pick up the box filled with the ballot papers and take it away to the nearest building for a count. She tugged on Fundy’s sleeve, jerking her head toward him. He blinked at it and stared at her for a moment. It was late afternoon and they had barely eaten. “Its nearly over,” he muttered, and he sounded so _tired._

Niki felt her own eyelids drooping and wished she had gone to bed sooner. But she nodded along. “Mhm. Soon, we’ll know.” He rested a head onto her shoulder, and she patted his thigh. “You brought the speeches, yes?”

“Yeah. What if—”

“No,” Niki cut in firmly. “None of that for now. We go into this with all the hope in our hearts we can possibly muster.”

She caught a smile in his voice. “Yeah. Okay Niki.”

Fundy caught Wilbur’s eye. He’d been strangely quiet throughout all of this. Contemplative, almost. He nodded at him, leaning back in his chair. A moment passed between the two, and Fundy’s previous fears disappeared for just a second. That was Wilbur. His friend. His ‘father’. Fellow soldier. Former president. Not the guy who threatened to blow up Manberg.

So Fundy smiled back and prayed and hoped to the Dragon that things would work out.

* * *

“Gather around,” Phil boomed. “Come on, guys. Quickly now.” Everyone stood to attention. The sun was beginning to set. Phil had taken way too long to count those votes and Tommy had made it known by constantly whining about it at every chance he got. More than a few murderous looks were thrown his way and he was only saved from a horrific fate by Tubbo eventually dragging him away to their house to cool down.

Fundy was gripping Niki’s hands tightly, almost crushing it as Tommy yelled, “Fucking _finally!”_ exasperatedly.

Phil just smiled serenely at him. “Right, right, I’m going on with it.” Niki glanced around to the people assembled there. Most were calm. A few, namely George, Eret and Quackity looked terse. Bad had an arm around Skeppy’s shoulders, his smile not reaching his eyes. “So, as I explained earlier, the party with the majority of votes wins this election. I’m not going to lie, I was a little surprised with the results. See, I—”

“Holy fucking _shit,_ get on with it old man!” Tommy crowed.

Phil glared at his brother. “…fucking alright then. So, the person who will become the next president, the winning party, by two percent, is…” He paused for dramatic affect and Fundy genuinely looked like he was about to stab someone. Phil beamed wide and happy. “Coconut2020!”

The first few seconds were a haze. Niki felt herself go light for a moment, soaring above the clouds and watching the results from the heavens. She saw Fundy’s face, expression going blank, then confused, then surprised and finally, elated in the span of around five seconds. It was only when he started laughing that Niki plummeted back into her own body.

“We won!” he roared, hopping around excitedly. “Niki, we won!” he said, trying to dispel her shock.

“We…we won,” she mumbled to herself, feeling a smile blossom. It stretched and stretched until her cheeks ached.

Fundy nodded enthusiastically, pulling her into a hug that lifted her off her feet and spinning her around. “We did it, bitches!” he yelled, right into her ear, and she didn’t mind at all.

There was clapping from all around them, but for the moment, it was just them, in their own little bubble of happiness, until Phil started asking them to come up and join him on stage to give their speeches.

Fundy went first, still buzzing. Niki followed, almost hesitantly, scanning the crowd. The other candidates had joined it. Bad was comforting a sulking Skeppy with a sparkle in his eye. He flashed a smile at her, and a tilt of his head. Tommy and Tubbo looked ecstatic. So did a lot of people, actually.

Wilbur, on the other hand, had a blank expression on, which made something unpleasant churn in her gut, but she elected to ignore it for the time being as she took Phil’s place. The crowd took ten, full seconds to calm down enough for them to speak.

Fundy and Niki glanced at each other. _You first,_ she mouthed. He cleared his throat and stared down at the piece of paper in his hands, loosing a breath before beginning to speak.

“Well! I, uh, I’m very glad to be up here right now. And I’m glad that most of you voted for us apparently. That’s also a thing.” He winced at his wording, shuffling awkwardly. “Well, I was here when this country first came to be. Back when there was the van and we were just a group of people with a dream.” He swallowed. “A lot has happened since then. Things have changed. And we’ve all been in too many battles at this point for it to be healthy. Niki and I have a dream as well. Just like we did back then. A place where people could be welcomed, no matter where they were from, no matter who they were. Somewhere that was safe for everyone. Somewhere peaceful.” He faltered for a second. “Now there aren’t walls or uniforms separating us. We are all the same. We live here and that’s enough! That was actually something Niki and I discussed, way back when this whole thing started. That thing on equality and our borders and whatnot.”

Right. Her turn now. “Right. As Fundy said, we have talked about many things. We have some plans. And-and we figured that maybe this place,” she waved her arms around vaguely, “maybe we’re better off not being a _country_ , per say. The walls didn’t do us much good,” she added sadly. “And I don’t think we can thrive with a government or a president. Not right now, and maybe not ever. So, and listen up, all of you, this place isn’t Manberg or even L’Manberg. It’s not Pogtopia or the Badlands. This is our _home,”_ she said fiercely. “That’s all it will be. Fundy and I are not your president. We don’t want a government here.” She saw Technoblade’s eyes light up for the first time. “Yes, we will lead. But our efforts will go into rebuilding and maintaining some order. Because we are a group of people trying to heal from what the past did to us. And for now, I think that’s more than enough.”

Silence fell over the crowd. Fundy was tensed, like a rubber band and Niki felt herself begin to fidget.

Then, Tommy of all people, started clapping loudly. “Fuck yeah, Big N!” he yelled cheerfully. “Three cheers to Home, everyone! Come on!”

Tubbo joined in. Then Karl, Sapnap and Quackity in that order. Phil, Eret, George. And then everyone was clapping and whooping. Wilbur locked eyes with her. _I’m proud of you,_ he mouthed, and her heart was filled to burst.

Fundy grabbed her hand and pulled it up, high above her head. “Let’s go!”

No, they weren’t L’Manberg. That had been Wilbur’s song. Manberg was Schlatt’s plaything. Pogtopia was someplace broken beyond repair, irreparable. This was new, beautiful. A shining hope for this world.

* * *

Wilbur tapped Phil’s shoulder during the afterparty, holding out a glass of apple juice out to him. “Hey. Can I talk to you about something?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

He didn’t waste time mincing words. “I’m going to leave.”

Phil blinked in shock. “Huh?”

“Just for a little bit!” Wilbur added, quick to reassure. “Apparently Eret has a home around two thousand or so blocks away from here. Very pretty. A little island resort with nothing but the sheep and the watermelons to keep you company. I think I’ll go there for a bit. A month or two. Clear my head a little.” His gaze turned serious. “I want to find myself again, Phil. And I can’t do it here.”

Phil, truthfully, had no words. “So you’re just going to leave? When?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Next week sometime. I’ll say goodbye first.”

“And you’re sure this is what you need?”

“Positive.”

Phil brought his little brother in for a hug, rubbing his back slowly and closing his eyes. “I can’t stop you. Promise to send letters, at least?”

“Yeah. I promise Phil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannot wait to write the next chapter. been looking forward to it for weeks.


	4. Old Friend, New Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil, Dream and George go meet with the man who still terrorises their server.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all have no clue i've been waiting to write this for tw o months holy shit  
> this is legit purely crack, please don't take any of this seriously but it was a blast to write.

Spawn was only a stone’s throw away from the large cobble and oak house that reached high up into the sky. Slime met them there and, with furtive looks all around the scenery (mostly oak forest with birch trees sparingly scattered around), ushered them away, straight to the house.

He looked the same as he did six months ago, when he first took Schlatt away. Golden tattoos under a green shirt, rectangle glasses and green eyes. A very bright smile. “Hello, hello! _Ice_ to meet you, Dream! Good to see you two again!” Ice cubes materialised out of nowhere and fell to the ground from his hands. Dream blinked in shock, but Slime had already turned around. “C’mon. He’s out in the front, so we gotta be quick.”

They followed him through the forest, coming up to the house which looked surprisingly orderly although there were random things shoved onto workbenches and desks and also an ungodly number of apples. The walls were coated in a fine layer of what seemed to be coal dust, and were lined in dozens of creeper skulls, staring at them menacingly. When he turned around, he almost missed the item frame that held a chunk of coal in it, and the one next to it which had a god apple in it. He glanced at Dream who looked equally as surprised underneath the mask. “Uh,” he began, “what’s with all the stuff. The, uh, coal and the apples?”

Slime stiffened for a moment. Phil saw his smile falter. “We don’t like to talk about the apples,” he whispered hoarsely.

Alright, point taken.

Another odd addition to the room was a cage in the corner. The edges were lined with obsidian, a contrast to the oak panels lining the walls. Inside, there was more obsidian, but the floor of the cage was grassy. Poppies stuck out of the ground. It looked surprisingly tranquil. George decided not to comment.

When he turned around, Slime was chewing on a piece of dried kelp and staring out the large window. Dream was peering out as well, periodically glancing at the kelp and grimacing. George joined them, and with a shock, realised what, or rather _who,_ they were looking at.

Schlatt. Down in the meadow below them, holding a hoe and talking to two other men. One in red, one in blue. Schlatt himself was in a grey hoodie, a far cry from the usual business suits and red ties. “What the hell?” George muttered, waving Phil over.

“So he’s been doing a lot better. Took him about a month to stop killing us and trying to escape which is great,” Slime said through the mouthful of kelp (why the fuck was he eating it?). “But I don’t think we can let him around other people for a long time.”

“How is he so _calm?”_ Dream asked incredulously, watching Schlatt lightly punch the guy in red in the arm and chuckle to himself. “How did you do this?”

Slime shrugged. “You said he became president, right? Yeah, well what we’ve found is that the moment you give the guy any kind of power over everyone else, he goes batshit. We learnt the hard way,” and he smiled a little hollowly, eyes glazed over as he stared at the golden apple in the item frame. “But I’m admin here. And I refused to give him any kind of power, which is why he’s basically harmless right now.”

Phil let out a snort. “ _Harmless_ my ass. Do you know what he _did_ to people?”

“I meant, he tells us stuff, but I don’t know if I should trust it. So I don’t.” Schlatt was waving a red apple in front of the men’s faces, cackling maniacally. The red one was screaming. The blue one was trying to wrench it out of his grip. Slime sighed. “And there he goes again,” he said under his breath.

Dream turned to Slime. “I wanna talk to him.”

Everyone immediately turned on him in shock. “Absolutely not!” George said furiously as Slime shook his head quickly.

“No! We spent so long trying to get him to not kill us and I don’t want you coming in here and _ruining_ it!” he cried.

Phil touched Dream’s shoulder gently. “He’s right. We remind Schlatt of a past he shouldn’t go back to. For everyone’s safety.”

“Uhuh!” Slime looked relieved. “We’ve gone literally two whole _weeks_ without using the NGC!”

“The what _?”_

“The Naughty Goat Corner!”

George hoped he misunderstood. “The _what?”_

Slime pointed at the cage in the corner. “Every time he stabs someone, he gets put in there for a few hours to think about what he’s done.”

George nodded. “And you’ve only gone two weeks without putting him in there?”

“We’re doing our best!”

“Right.”

“How are all of you faring with him here?” Phil asked gently.

To everyone’s surprise, Slime visibly lit up. “Oh, it’s been good. He’s a cool dude when you get past the god complex. We’ve been through everything together at this point.”

“Okay. How long have you known him for?”

“Oh, a while. Before he went batshit, we were on a server together.” Something wistful entered his eyes. “It’s almost like old times,” and he looked sad before swivelling to face them all. “Listen, I don’t think he can _ever_ re-join your server if he’s telling the truth about what he did. It’s best for everyone if he stayed with us and away from any of you. No offence.”

“None taken. I never wanna talk to him again.” George shuddered a little.

“Understandable.” Slime moved away from the window and pushed aside a container (George saw the word ‘whey’ and ‘protein’), to hold up some freshly baked bread. “You staying for dinner? I can get Grizz to take him to the village for tonight.”

The three men exchanged looks and eventually, it was Phil who spoke up. “Thank you for the offer, but we’ll be leaving now. We haven’t told anyone where we’d be, and they’d be getting worried now.”

“Ah, of course.” Slime motioned the way to the door. “This way to the portal!” he chirped. “Are you _bread_ -y?”

And this time, George did giggle a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aannnnd thAT'S THE END FOLKS!
> 
> i don't think i'll update this series again but if i do, it might be a flash back. thank you to everyone who read this and enjoyed it! i liked writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!!


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